


No Longer Alone

by Regi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Goes to Therapy, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morning After, Not Anymore, Past Abuse, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Endgame, Sharing a Bed, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Top Bucky Barnes, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regi/pseuds/Regi
Summary: Each sound ripped through Steve like a knife. His best friend was being tortured mercilessly and he could do nothing about it. He had to. He had to do something. He had to make it stop.Bucky and Steve started sharing an apartment in Brooklyn. Steve hoped the move would help Bucky heal-that the nightmares would stop. Bucky would still wake up screaming, reliving every horrible moment. It was up to Steve to figure out how to stop it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post Endgame, except nobody died, including Steve’s character arc
> 
> Betas: butwhatifwedid and wordsbymeganmichael

Once the battle was over, Steve decided to move back to Brooklyn. Stark was able to pull some strings and get Steve and the others off of the world’s “most wanted” list, but they were still expected to “behave themselves.” Steve asked Bucky to go with him; now that he had his best friend back, he wasn’t ready to leave him in Wakanda again. He really expected Bucky to protest—assuming he still thought of himself as a burden to Steve—but he said yes. Almost immediately. 

At first, everything felt awkward. They were both hyper-aware of each other and there was just a weird tension overall. There were so many feelings of guilt, shame, relief, anger, happiness, and grief—and it was creating a wall between them. Neither of them knew how to talk about it, or even how to bring it up, and the awkward tension was growing. And Bucky still remembered…everything.

Steve certainly didn’t expect Bucky to magically forget the trauma he endured. He still didn’t know what all H.Y.D.R.A. did with their experiments (and Bucky never talked about it). In retrospect, he should’ve expected it. 

Every night around 2 a.m., Steve would hear it start. Bucky would start with mumbling things (in what Steve assumed was Russian). He couldn’t understand what he was saying—and he didn’t need to—because they quickly turned into screams. Steve would lie awake and listen to pleads coming from the other room, unsure what he should do. Buchy  _ never _ talked about his time in Siberia, and in the morning he acted like nothing happened. Usually the sounds stopped within the hour, and Steve could only assume that he fell back asleep. And this routine worked for a while. But one night, it got to be too much. 

Each sound ripped through Steve like a knife. His best friend was being tortured mercilessly and he could do nothing about it. He had to. He  _ had _ to do something. He had to make it stop. Finally gathering the courage, Steve went to Bucky’s room.

He tip-toed into the room and quietly approached Bucky’s flailing body. He didn’t even consider what could have happened—and that was a mistake on his part, really. But Steve wasn’t prepared for the metal fingers to clamp around his throat. He clawed at the hand, gasping for air and Bucky released him. 

Steve could see the realization—the  _ pain _ —in Bucky’s eyes. And before he could choke out an apology, Steve pulled him in for a hug. They just sat there, holding each other as if a meteor was headed for earth. He let Bucky pant and sob into his shoulder without ever saying a word. He had to accept that Bucky would talk about it when he was ready (and he clearly wasn’t). Steve stayed with him that night, holding him close as they drifted off to sleep. The following night, Bucky crawled into Steve’s bed. He said nothing and simply laid next to him. And, again, Steve never brought it up. It was the first night Bucky didn’t wake up screaming. 

It became their new routine. Bucky would wait until (he thought) Steve was asleep to crawl in next to him, and he would be gone by the morning. It became a silent agreement between them. Steve figured there was no harm in sharing the bed if it was helping Bucky heal. And, Bucky probably didn’t know this, but it helped Steve heal, too. It was good for him to have the constant reminder that Bucky was alive—that he wasn’t alone anymore. 

_ So how did we get here? _ Steve wondered, slowly sitting up, glancing at the naked man laying next to him. Dark locks covered his friend’s face, but Steve was pretty sure Bucky was still asleep—and he was thankful for that.

Steve wasn't an idiot. He knew  _ how _ it happened, if his screaming backside was any indicator. But he didn’t understand what brought them to this point.

_ Last night, Bucky came in like he always did, careful not to “wake” Steve. But this time, he woke up in a cold sweat. It was the first time he had a nightmare like this since they started sleeping together, and Bucky was more surprised than anything else. Steve woke up to the panicked gasps and tried to calm him down. He gently took Bucky’s face in his hands, trying to bring him back to reality. Steve could feel the tension in Bucky’s jaw as the tears fell over his thumbs. He held him there, fighting back his own tears, as Bucky’s breath slowed. Then something changed. _

_ Bucky climbed over him, kneeling between Steve’s legs. He was mumbling again, begging Steve not to hate him. Bucky brought his head close to Steve’s, brown hair covering his swollen eyes. And, in a desperate voice that Steve had never heard before, he said “Let me. Please, Steve.” _

_ It took a moment for Steve to realize what he meant. Bucky was clearly distraught, but also aroused. Steve could see his hardness through the loose sweatpants and wondered how often this happened. He pushed the long locks out of Bucky’s face and saw his trembling lips. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or sad or just plain confused. In all their years of friendship, Steve never saw such disparity in his eyes.  _

_ “Alright,” he whispered, letting Bucky do as he pleased.  _

Steve wasn’t sure what to do. How was he supposed to face Bucky when they woke up. What was he supposed to  _ say _ ? The questions plagued him as he slipped out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. 

He was a mess. There were bruises on his left hip from Bucky’s metal arm—which he used to hold Steve in place as he plowed into his ass. He wasn’t upset, though. They were both supersoldiers having rough sex—there were bound to be some marks. What  _ did _ upset him was the trail of… _ stuff _ that exited his body as he stepped into the bathroom. He wiped it away, along with the small trail of dried blood and grimaced. They didn’t use anything more than spit to make things go in, and spit only gets you so far. Before the war, Steve had heard of men using olive oil or hand creams to…do that. And, from what he understood, it was supposed to be pleasurable. Sure, after the initial bite of pain, it started to feel good (though he hated to admit it). He was actually pleasantly surprised by the amount of pleasure there was. Maybe it was because he was stroking himself through the process (or because of that one spot that Bucky seemed to hit just right)...and dammit, he was semi-hard again. 

By the time he had showered and shaved, Bucky was in the kitchen making coffee. He seemed different this morning—he looked almost peaceful. He had most of his hair pulled up into a small ponytail and was back in the pajamas that had been quickly discarded the previous night. 

“Hey,” he grumbled, pouring the coffee into his cup. 

“‘Morning,” Steve said hesitantly.  _ What am I supposed to say? _

“You want some?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the pot. 

Steve blinked. “Uh, yeah sure.” 

Bucky handed him a steaming cup, refusing to make eye contact. “Fury wants me at headquarters today.”

“Any reason why?”

“Heading some sort of special ops mission or something like that. It should only take a few days. I’ll be heading out after I finish this.”

Steve slowly nodded.  _ So we’re just pretending like nothing happened? _ he thought. He had to admit, he was a little hurt, but it was probably for the best. According to Nat, the whole “morning after” thing was always awkward when you weren’t in a serious relationship—(though Steve could never picture her in a serious relationship, but who was he to judge?). But the thing was, Steve  _ wanted _ to talk about it. It was a weird sidestep in their friendship and, frankly, he wasn’t sure what it meant.  _ Do people normally have sex after they wake up from nightmares? Was it related to his H.Y.D.R.A. training? Dear God, did they do something  _ like that _ to him?  _ The questions were endless.

“Do you want help?” he asked instead, shoving his mini existential crisis to the back of his head. 

“What, you don’t think I can handle it?” Bucky pressed with a cocky smile. 

Steve grinned. “I didn’t say that. But if you need a whole team…” he jeered. 

“Correction. I was asked to  _ lead _ a team.”

“So they’re your backup?”

Bucky frowned. “Nothing’s ever easy with you, is it?” he said, dropping his empty cup in the sink and heading towards his room, grumbling something about “having to leave soon.”

Steve chuckled.

By the time he finished his coffee, Bucky was ready to head out the door. 

“Don’t do anything stupid when I’m gone,” he ordered, pointing a finger at the blonde.

“How can I? You’re taking all of the stupid with you.”

Bucky frowned. “Try not to start another war while I’m gone.”

“No promises.”

And with that, the door shut, and Steve had the apartment to himself for the next few days. Knowing that, he decided to make the most of it. He had questions, and they needed to be answered. He needed to find a library.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: butwhatifwedid and wordsbymeganmichael

Steve’s eyes were burning. He had only been looking at the computer for an hour but his eyes just weren’t used to the screen time. The librarian insisted this would be easier than looking at outdated books, and Steve couldn’t help but think that was a lie. Finding a helpful article wasn’t hard, but printing it! How was he supposed to work with new technology if they kept updating it every time he figured it out. He was tired and frustrated and this seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. And since when did the computers have touch screens?! 

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with his palms.

“Captain America?”

Steve slowly lifted his head, looking at the familiar boy standing next to him. 

He hadn’t seen Peter Parker since he got back to New York. Tony kept the kid busy with his internship—or, doing grunt work to keep him away from any more life-threatening fights. Steve blinked a few times, trying to get his eyes to focus. 

“I mean,” Peter stumbled. “Mr. Rogers…Captain Rogers? I’m bothering you, aren’t I? Sorry about that, I just thought—”

“Peter,” Steve chuckled.

The boy immediately got silent and straightened his back. “Yes, sir?” 

“You’re fine. And I thought I told you to call me Steve.”

Peter swallowed. “Well, yeah. But I still call Mr. Stark  _ Mr. Stark _ , and you’re older than Mr. Stark—not that you look it! You look great and I’m going to stop talking now,” he flushed. 

It took every ounce of self control to keep Steve from busting out laughing. He bit his lip.

“Well, I should get going,” Peter mumbled, turning to hide his embarrassment.

“Actually,” Steve said, “you can probably help me.” 

“I can?” 

He nodded. “Stark said you’re good with computers.”

“I dabble,” Peter shrugged. 

“Do you know how to print this?”

“Uh…” Peter was dumbfounded. “Yeah, I can. Let me just—excuse me,” he said, reaching in front of Steve. He pressed the small symbol on the corner of the screen, dropping the menu, and hit ‘print.’ Steve had to remember that for next time. The boy strided over to the printers, stabled the stack of papers together, and promptly returned to Steve’s side. 

“It’s this one, right?  _ ‘Overcoming Trauma: Nightmares and Post-Traumatic… _ ” he trailed off.

“That’s the one,” Steve breathed.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, sheepishly handing him the papers. 

“Don’t be,” he smiled, patting him on the back. “I appreciate your help.”

Someone called Peter from the other room and made him jump. A young woman walked around the corner with an impatient look on her face, pointing at her non-existent watch. 

“Sorry, I gotta go,” Peter said quietly, trying to hide his smile. 

Steve knew that look. The look of sheer awe and amazement—the look of love. She was his girlfriend—at least, he hoped that was the case, considering they walked out of the building hand-in-hand. 

Steve leaned back in his chair and sighed. He was done with the computers for today, and decided to look for an actual book. But, it would’ve been helpful to know what he’s actually looking for.

He thought about asking Sam. He worked with vets and ran PTSD support groups, so he was bound to know  _ something _ about this. But he and Bucky didn’t get along super well, and he figured Bucky wouldn’t want Sam to know about the nightmares. The two of them were constantly in a “I’m cooler than you” competition, and they either thought Steve didn’t know or they just didn’t care. Either way, it wasn’t worth it. 

He found a handful of books that might be helpful and made his way to the desk. As he sat the books down, he could feel his cell vibrate in his pocket. The old man behind the counter grumbled something about “no phones” as Steve checked his texts.

_ Nat: Lunch _

It wasn’t a question. He rolled his eyes and typed back “sure” before the old man shoved the books at him again. 

“Leave your phone at home next time,” the man huffed. “Damn millennials.”

Steve frowned and walked out the door. Natasha still hadn’t responded to him, but knowing her, she already knew where they were going for food. 

“Captain,” Natasha said mockingly, appearing next to him. She gave a salute and he frowned. 

“Was that necessary?”

“Always,” she smirked. “What do you have there?” 

Steve looked down at the short stack in his hands and back at her. “Light reading.”

“Yeah, it looks it.” 

She didn’t press the issue (although he was pretty sure she saw the titles). Instead, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a nearby café. It wasn’t until they were seated and halfway through their meal that she started asking questions.

“Are you going to tell me about it?” she asked with a mouth full of salad.

“Excuse me?”

She swallowed. “Come on, Steve. Really?”

His brow rose. 

“The books, Steve,” she sighed. 

“I already told you, it’s just—”

“Light reading,” she finished. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I expect you to respect my privacy,” he huffed. 

“Then you don’t know me very well,” she smirked. “You’re having nightmares?” She glanced at the top book. 

“No,” Steve grumbled, covering them with his arm, “I’m not.”

Natasha pursed her lips. “You know, it’s normal. To have nightmares, I mean. After all of the shit—sorry,  _ stuff _ —we’ve been through, there’s bound to be some form of trauma.”

Steve frowned. “That’s not it.”

She looked up at him. “Bucky,” she said quietly. 

He didn’t answer. 

“Well, that’s…it’s not surprising.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just…” Steve groaned. “It’s complicated.”

Natasha said nothing, but he could feel her staring a hole into him. 

“What?” he snapped.

“Complicated how?”

“Nat…”

“What? I’m trying to help you.”

“Well, you’re not.”

“Yeah, because you won’t tell me anything.” She pointed her fork at him. “I thought we were friends?” she pouted. 

He grimaced. Natasha stared at him, innocently blinking her doey eyes. 

Steve let out an exasperated sigh. “Have you…do you ever do things while you're sleeping?”

“Like sleep walking?” 

“Kind of? More like actually  _ doing _ things, not just walking around aimlessly.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair. “I haven’t. Laura said she’s found Clint in the kitchen making a sandwich in his sleep, but something tells me that’s not what you mean.”

Steve rested his head in his hand, looking down at the table. “Not quite,” he muttered.

“Did he try to hurt you?” she asked.

“No, not like that—well, once, but he woke up almost immediately and apologized. And that hasn’t happened since.”

“So what did happen?”

He continued to stare at the table in silence. He wasn’t sure how long he needed to actually admit it. Could he say it out loud? It was embarrassing, and part of Steve worried that he should’ve pushed him off and—dear God, what if Bucky wasn’t in his right mind when it happened? Maybe he didn’t remember it because he was sleepwalking? Then again, it’s not like there wasn’t evidence of the late night escapades all over the bed—and, damn, this was making his head hurt. 

“Steve?”

He glanced up and could feel the heat rush to his cheeks. And then it dawned on her. He watched as her eyes grew wide. She opened her mouth a few times, but never seemed to find the right words. 

“Don’t…” he warned.

“Am I wrong?” She crossed her arms.

He didn’t answer. 

“How far did you go?” she pried.

“Nat.”

“Do I need to use the baseball metaphors?”

“Please don’t,” he groaned, laying his head on the table and covering his face. 

“And you think he was sleepwalking?” She furrowed her brow. 

He grunted. 

“You think you had sex…because he was sleepwalking?”

Steve shrugged. “I told you, it’s complicated. I don’t…I don’t think he remembers doing it.”

Natasha frowned. “Really?”

“He acted like nothing happened.”

“And I’m assuming you did the same?”

“It seemed easier at the time. Less awkward.”

She waved at the waiter, asking for the check. “How many times has this happened?” she asked once the waiter was out of earshot.

“Just once. Nothing like this ever happened before. He usually just stays asleep.”

Nat perched her brow. “Usually? And come on, we’re heading out.”

“We are?” he mumbled.

“Yes. It’s easier for me to hear you when you aren’t talking into the table. And we have a stop to make.”

“We do?” he asked as he stood up, collecting his stack of books. 

She nodded and led him out of the shop. “What do you mean by ‘usually’?” she asked as they walked down the block.

Steve looked away from her. “Sometimes he sleeps in my bed,” he muttered almost inaudibly.

“Uh-huh. And why is that?”

He sighed. “He sometimes…I think it helps with the nightmares. But he never really said anything, he just would come in and sleep and leave by the morning. And where are you taking me?”

“So you’ve been sleeping together,” she said, ignoring his question. “For how long?”

“I don’t know, Nat. It’s not like I circled the date on my calendar,” he grimaced. 

She smiled. “So it’s been a while.”

“I guess so.”

She stopped in front of a Walgreens and looked up at the sign. “I gotta ask,” she said, leading him into the store.

“No, you don’t.”

“That was a first for you, right?” she grinned. 

He frowned. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” 

“Please stop talking.” 

“It’s not a bad thing. Everyone loses their virginity at some point. Although, most people don’t wait until they’re one hundred years old,” she teased, walking towards the back of the store. 

“Very funny,” he said, flatly. 

“Clint owes me twenty bucks.”

“Nat!”

“What?” she laughed. “He said that I wasn’t thinking straight and there was  _ no way _ Captain America was lacking in partners. Not with that ass.”

Steve was tempted to leave then and there—while he still had a shred of dignity, but that was quickly thrown out of the window. Natasha dragged him down the sexual health aisle and he knew exactly where this was going. 

“I already have condoms,” he argued. 

“No, you have an emergency medical kit. Big difference.”

“They do the same thing.”

“Do they even fit?”

They glared at each other for a moment before she tossed him a pack that said XL. His cheeks flushed. 

“So did  _ everything _ get bigger with the serum?” Nat chuckled. 

Yep, he wanted to die. Maybe he could throw himself in front of the next bus he saw. That should do the trick.

“In all seriousness, it defeats the purpose if they don’t fit properly,” she said, grabbing a variety of boxes. 

“I can’t believe we’re having this discussion,” he groaned. 

“Here,” she continued, ignoring his latest statement and shoving a bottle of clear liquid at him. “Spit will only get you so far.”

Steve could feel his soul leave his body.

“Do you think one’s enough?” she asked, intently studying the shelves.

“Yeah,” he choked out, unsure of what else to say. 

Natasha nodded and made a beeline for the counter. Steve was mortified as the cashier—who was probably sixteen at most—scanned all twelve (yes, twelve) packs of condoms and shoved them into a bag. Nat insisted on paying, and gave the poor kid a wink when he handed her the bag. Steve was pretty sure he was the same shade of red that the boy was, but he tried to act like he didn’t notice his own embarrassment. 

“Here you go,” Nat said, happily handing Steve the bag once they were outside of the store. 

He looked down at the bag, back at her, and then back at the bag again. “What does this have to do with the nightmares, Nat?” he asked, annoyed.

She smiled. “Not much, to be fair.”

He frowned. 

“Think about it, Steve. He shares a bed with you and his nightmares seemingly stop. He has sex with you, and what?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. He was in a decent mood this morning, I guess?” 

She sighed. “Steve, did you ever think that it wasn’t about the nightmares?”

He blinked. What did she mean by that? If it wasn’t about the nightmares then why was Bucky crawling into his bed in the middle of the night? Why was he so desperate to be close to Steve? Why did he want to hold him? Steve blinked again. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Just think about it,” she said softly. “If I had to guess, I’d say the two aren’t related.”

“But the nightmares stopped for the most part.”

She nodded. “And nothing else could contribute to that?”

“Not that I know of, no.”

Nat pinched the bridge of her nose. “You two should talk about…all of this.” 

“Talk?” he asked dumbfounded. “That’s the big solution? Just talk it out?”

“Yeah.”

His brow furrowed. “Then what the hell was all of  _ this _ for?” he exclaimed, shaking the bag. 

“Hey, now,” she laughed. “Safe sex isn’t a joke, Rogers.”

It took everything in his power not to throw the bag at her. And the only reason he didn’t was because he knew it would be starting something he couldn’t finish. Clint warned him about doing that a long time ago. 

“I’m serious,” she said, walking away. “Talk to him.”

“And say what?” he called after her.

“That he stole your chastity and now he needs to take responsibility?” 

Steve could hear the laughter in her voice. “That’s not helpful.”

She laughed again and waved over her shoulder, and Steve watched as she disappeared among the crowds. 

He looked down at the bag again and blushed. She was right about one thing: spit really didn’t do much. Not when you’re being bent over by an impatient super soldier. Maybe this would make things easier…wait. He actually considered doing it again. Having…relations with Bucky. Why? 

Steve sighed. There have been very few instances where he wished he could get drunk. This just made it onto the list. Bucky was supposed to be back in the next day or two, but he wasn’t sure that was enough time to sort out all of these feelings. Were they ready to talk about this? And what if Bucky said it was a mistake or he didn’t know what he was doing? Was Steve ready for that? Was he afraid of rejection? Or would it be better if things just went back to normal? The army never prepared him for this!

He huffed and started walking back to his apartment, hoping he didn’t run into anyone else he knew while he was carrying the  _ indiscrentionables _ . 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more from Bucky's POV :)
> 
> Betas: wordsbymeganmichael and butwhatifwedid

Bucky rested his head against the wall of the quinjet. Their mission finished much earlier than expected and he was going to be home by the evening. But he wasn’t ready to go home. His mind was still in a whirlwind, trying to process everything that happened the previous night. He was overwhelmed, confused, and, most of all, embarrassed. He let Steve see a side of him that he never wanted to show—the pathetic, broken soldier who was so desperate for compassion that he…

He sighed. Bucky asked Steve to sleep with him. It was a stupid thing to do, because he  _ knew _ he would agree. Steve’s been trying so hard to make his life in Brooklyn comfortable. Being around him was comforting. Steve was his safe space. And he might have just ruined that. 

_ Bucky didn’t even remember the nightmare that led up to it, but whatever it was made him scared, angry, and (shamefully) aroused. He remembered Steve taking his face in his hands, saying “I’m here” over and over again. And as Bucky fought back tears, he realized he needed Steve in a way he never expected to. He closed his eyes, leaning into Steve’s gentle touch. He needed to feel him, now more than ever before. He wrapped his hand around Steve’s wrist and looked him right in the eyes. Bucky moved his knee between Steve’s legs, hoping to hell he wouldn’t be hated after this. He begged him, and Steve agreed.  _

_ There was nothing sensual about it. Bucky flipped Steve onto his hands and knees and yanked his pants down around his thighs. He spit into his hand, rubbed it onto Steve’s hole, and pushed inside. He could see the sweat prickling on Steve’s neck and he knew he was in pain. But he never said to stop. Bucky fucked him hard, holding his hips in place why Steve grunted into a pillow. He could feel his fingers digging into Steve’s flesh, undoubtedly leaving bruises behind, and he was ashamed. There was no coming back from this.  _

He wondered if Steve would ask him to move out. It would only make sense. How do you just go back to platonic cohabitation after a night like that? God, what do people even say afterwards? It had been a long time since Bucky—and not the Winter Soldier—had any kind of intimate evening with another person. The last time was before he left for the army. And the best part about that was the lack of commitment. He didn’t have to woo anyone, it was just a once and done deal. And this wasn’t like that. Of all the people, why did it have to be Steve?

“Agent Barnes,” someone said, breaking Bucky away from his internal crisis. “We’re here.”

Bucky grunted and exited the jet. 

It took over an hour to get everything settled at S.H.I.E.L.D. much to his dismay. He dropped his weapons off at the armory and had some paperwork to sign before he was home free—although free wasn’t exactly how he’d describe it. 

He took his getting back to the apartment, choosing to walk instead of taking the subway. At one point, he got so irritated with his hair that he pulled it back into a short pony at the back of his head. 

_ Maybe I’ll get a haircut _ , he thought, looking at his reflection in a shop window. He thought about doing it now—after all, it would give him more time to himself. Maybe if he waited until later, Steve would already be asleep? Who was he kidding. Steve only pretended to go to bed at ten. Bucky was well aware that his friend was still awake every time he crawled into his bed. But Steve never asked questions and Bucky didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal. 

He thought about asking Sam if he could crash at his place, but he knew there would be questions, and he didn’t want to answer questions. He should’ve just stayed the night at S.H.I.E.L.D. He could’ve slept on a random couch and no one would be brave enough to ask him to leave. 

Bucky turned the corner and gazed up at the tall apartment building. He sighed. There was no getting around this, was there?

He trudged up the stairs to the twenty-seventh floor. He waved to Mrs. Johnson, the little old lady that lived down the hall. She glared at him like she always did, probably trying to figure out why her nice neighbor lived with such a terrifying man. Which, to be fair…

He winced as he opened the door, unsure of what to expect. Most of the lights were off, sans the hall light and the light from Steve’s bedroom.

“Steve?” he called quietly. 

There was no answer. 

“Steve?” he called again, this time more concerned. 

Still no answer. 

Bucky swallowed and reached for the glock in his bag—yes, yes, he wasn’t supposed to take weapons from S.H.I.E.L.D., but Steve got to keep his shield with him, so why couldn’t Bucky have a gun? Both were lethal, in the right hands.

He slowly crept down the hall, gun at the ready. He saw a shadow from Steve’s bedroom—and it wasn’t moving. He took a deep breath and prepared to round the corner in three, two, one…

Bucky spun into the doorway, aiming the gun at the figure on the bed. 

“Buck, what the hell?” Steve yelled, putting his hands up. “What are you doing?!”

He huffed, and stuffed the glock in his waistband. “Seriously? I called out to you!”

“I didn’t hear you—and why the hell do you have a gun?”

Bucky opened his mouth to answer and then froze. Steve was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, surrounded by, what had to be, ten—no, twelve—packs of condoms. There was one, single-wrapped condom laying next to each box and a clear bottle of  _ Slick n’ Slide _ laying next beside him. 

Steve flushed. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“And what does it look like?” Bucky asked flatly, still trying to make sense of the scene he just walked into. 

Steve swallowed. “I’m not entirely sure,” he mumbled, looking towards the wall. 

“I’m just gonna…” Bucky said, backing out of the room.

“Wait,” Steve ordered. He furrowed his brow, searching for the right thing to say. “We should probably talk.”

Bucky closed his eyes. “You sure about that?”

Steve frowned. “Yes, actually, I am,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. 

Bucky leaned back against the doorframe. “Do you want me to move out?” he muttered.

“What? No,” Steve said, dumbfounded. “Why would you think that?”

“Seriously?” 

Steve exhaled. “Can you stop answering my questions with other questions?” 

“No.”

He frowned at Bucky, who refused to look him in the eye. “I’m serious, Buck,” he muttered. “This is serious.”

Bucky said nothing. 

“I’m worried about you,” Steve continued. He waited for a response, but Bucky didn’t give him one. “Why didn’t you tell me about the nightmares?” 

Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “It’s not your problem to deal with.”

“Not my—? Buck, you’re my best friend. If something is wrong, you can tell me. What, did you think I would run away screaming?”

Bucky gave a hollow laugh. “A punk like you? Never.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth curved upward. “Jerk,” he said, shaking his head.

“It’s already being handled,” Bucky grunted. 

Steve froze. “What do you mean by ‘handled’?”

He shrugged again. “That’s not important.”

“Yes it is.”

“I told you, it’s not your problem,” Bucky barked.

“You made it my problem last night, in case you forgot,” Steve boomed, getting off of the bed. 

“I'm seeing someone!” he yelled.

Steve was taken aback. His face shifted from anger to—what—hurt? That was new. Then Bucky realized how it sounded.

“That’s not what I me—” he started 

“Then why the hell did you sleep with me?!” Steve shouted. 

Bucky drug his hand down his face. He wasn’t expecting that. Then again, what was he expecting? 

“And, what?” Steve continued, “You just act like nothing happened? You got so pent up that you just couldn’t just yank one out in the bathroom, and then you have the  _ audacity _ to tell me it’s none of my business?!” 

Bucky’s jaw dropped. He  _ really _ wasn’t expecting that. Steve had only ever been that angry with him three times before—all of them when they were teens. Once, after Bucky forgot him at Coney Island because he got distracted by the two girls flirting with him, once, for breaking up a fight even though Steve was getting absolutely destroyed, and…Bucky really couldn’t remember the third one, but he was positive there were three. 

Steve was still fuming in front of him. If he clenched his jaw any tighter, he’d probably break a tooth. “Say. Something,” he ordered.

Bucky sighed. “I’m seeing a psychologist, Steve.”

“Oh.” Steve stood with his mouth agape, struggling to find words. “Since when?” he squeaked, the flush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. 

“About a month after we got back here.”

Steve nodded and sat back on the edge of the bed. He looked like he was ready to punch himself. 

“Steve?”

He furrowed his brow. “The psychologist is helping with the nightmares.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why you stopped waking up like that?”

Bucky nodded. 

“Oh.” Steve almost seemed disappointed. “And…was sharing a bed also their idea?”

It was Bucky’s turn to blush. “Kinda,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “She, uh…she suggested doing things that made me more comfortable. Spending time with people I trusted and stuff.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Say what?” he asked, innocently. 

Bucky closed his eyes tightly. “That sleeping next to you helps, or something?”

“Does it?”

He sheepishly nodded. 

“Buck,” Steve whispered. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not something I really wanted to talk about.”

“Yeah…” Steve agreed. “Come over here,” he added, patting the bed.

Bucky walked over as Steve shoved the miscellaneous condoms to the other side of the bed, trying not to acknowledge just how awkward it made everything. 

“You know I have to ask,” he said once Bucky was seated next to him.

“I figured.”

“What happened last night,” he said, looking at his hands. “What was that?”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t know.” 

He felt Steve’s fingers brush up against his hand. 

“Are you mad?” he asked. His fingers twitched against Steve’s.

“There’s nothing to be mad at. You asked and I agreed.”

“But?”

Steve exhaled. “But why did you ask?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do. And you’re not telling me. Buck, I’m willing to forget it ever happened, but I need to know.”

Bucky swallowed. “I just…needed to feel you, or something.” 

Steve’s covered his hand with his own. “Why?”

He could feel the lump in his throat. He was not going to cry, dammit. He didn’t do that. At least, not in front of Steve. “Because you’re Steve.”

Bucky knew the answer was a cop out, but openly saying “you make me feel like a human and not a cold-hearted murder machine, and somehow it makes me whole” really wasn’t an option. He wasn’t sure if it was love—at least, not in the romantic sense. But Steve was more than just his friend. He was a piece of him. Steve took up a good portion of Bucky’s heart—and nearly all of his memories—but Bucky wasn’t ready to admit that yet. Although, judging by the look on Steve’s face, he knew exactly what Bucky meant. 

Steve laced his fingers with Bucky’s and gave his hand a squeeze. “Okay,” he said to himself. “So should we try it?” he asked, catching Bucky’s gaze.

He blinked. “What?”

“You know. This,” Steve said, waving his hand between them. “Us.”

“Like…romantically?”

“Yeah,” Steve exhaled. “Can’t hurt to try.”

“You’re serious.” Bucky furrowed his brow.

“Yeah, I think so,” he nodded, chewing on his lip. 

“You don’t have t—”

“I know. But I want to see where it goes.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He just sat there in awe of the man next to him. Steve wasn’t going to make him leave; he wasn’t afraid of him and he didn’t hate him. And it felt surreal. 

“Can I try something?” Steve asked softly.

Bucky, unable to find the right words, simply nodded.

Steve adjusted himself on the bed so he was facing his friend. He cupped Bucky’s cheek, stroking the scruff with his thumb. Bucky winced before relaxing into his hand. He wasn’t used to being touched like so…gently. His thumb rested on Bucky’s lips for a moment before sliding around his ear, to the back of his neck. Steve waited, giving his friend every opportunity to pull away. But he didn’t. 

Steve slowly brought their heads togethers. Their noses bumped together clumsily before Steve’s lips rested on his own. Bucky angled his chin out and time seemed to stop. Was it only a moment or were they there for an hour? Bucky wasn’t sure. He was too busy drinking in the serenity from that moment. 

Bucky opened his eyes when he felt Steve’s lips pull away. 

Steve nervously rubbed his palms against his thighs. “Um, that was…”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He could feel his cheeks grow hot. Well, this was awkward. 

“Steve?” he cringed. “Can we, uh…”

It was Steve’s turn to nod like an idiot. They were both a couple of springs away from turning into bobble heads.

They leaned into each other again, this time without hitting their noses. Steve pulled him closer. Bucky reached down to balance himself and heard the crunch of a cardboard package. They broke apart and looked down at the poor box of condoms that he squashed flat. 

Steve bit back a chuckle. 

Bucky shook his head.

“I should move these,” Steve said, grabbing the packs and putting them on his nightstand. 

Bucky watched him, amused. Steve tried to stack the boxes nicely, but gave up after the pile fell for the second time. He picked up the bottle of lube and blushed furiously. He stared at it for a moment before sighing and setting it on the nightstand. He looked back at Bucky, took a deep breath, and slid his T-shirt over his head. 

Bucky swallowed. “Steve. What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Steve said, licking his lips nervously. 

He waited for Bucky’s response and, when he didn’t get one, reached for the hem of his shirt. Bucky silently obliged, raising his arms so Steve could disrobe him with ease. 

The sat their topless, avoiding each other’s gaze, and damn Bucky had never been this nervous when it came to sex. Once upon a time, he was suave and seductive. He could talk the skirt off of just about anyone with minimal effort. But this was different. This was Steve. 

Bucky made the first move, pulling Steve back in for another, deeper kiss. He slanted his mouth over his partner’s, probing Steve’s closed lips with his tongue. Steve groaned into his mouth and wrapped his hands around Bucky’s neck. Bucky’s tongue eagerly explored his mouth while his hands made their way down Steve’s chiseled chest. 

He shifted on the bed, gently moving Steve onto his back and laying between his legs. Bucky trailed slow, hot kisses along his neck to his clavicle while Steve’s hands traced over his back. Bucky rolled his pelvis against his, grinding their hardening lengths against each other. He was uncomfortably strained against his jeans, and figured they would have to get there at some point. 

Bucky reached down and unbuttoned Steve's jeans, his throbbing cock still concealed by his boxer briefs. Steve stared at him breathlessly, watching as Bucky’s hands moved to his own waistband. 

He looked to see Steve’s reaction as he exposed himself—carefully making sure he wasn’t going to freak out.

Steve’s eyes were cloudy with a mix of lust and fear. Bucky palmed his erection through his boxers, startling him out of his daze. 

“Buck,” he whimpered.

He rubbed him again, with more pressure this time, and Steve moaned. 

“Buck,” he said again. “Buck, can we…can we just do this?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Just…?” 

“Touching. Just touching. At least for tonight.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, wrapping his fist around Steve’s rock-hard erection. 

Steve gasped as Bucky stroked his length. He reciprocated, grabbing Bucky’s weeping cock. They kissed again, tongues wrestling, trying to dominate each other’s mouth. They rubbed their cocks together, each with a hand pumping furiously until they came on each other’s chests. 

Bucky rolled onto his back next to his spent partner, trying to catch his breath. Steve looked at him and the corner of his lips turned up. 

“That was better than I expected,” he sighed, pushing a stray hair off of Bucky’s face.

“Please tell me that’s not the only time someone has touched you,” Bucky chuckled. “Aside from yourself, of course,” he teased. 

Steve grimaced. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Oh my God, it is, isn’t it?” Bucky grinned. “Captain America, protector of truth, justice, and virginity.”

Steve smacked him with a pillow. “Technically, it’s the second.”

“That’s so much worse,” Bucky cackled. “Oh my God, I deflowered Captain America.”

“You’re enjoying this a little too much,” Steve said flatly. 

Bucky smiled at him fondly. “Yeah, I guess I am.” 

He smiled back and made Bucky’s heart melt. Damn, he really did love this punk. But he wasn’t going to say that. Not yet, at least.

“You know, you never did say how you got that gun,” Steve said, propping himself up on his elbow.

“And you never explained what you were doing with all of those condoms,” Bucky counted.

“It’s a long story,” he grumbled. 

Bucky exhaled. “We got time.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah. I guess we do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the epilogue! I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	4. Epilogue

6 months later

Steve opened his eyes slowly, struggling to adjust to the bright light cascading through the window. He knew he should sit up, go for a run, or do something productive, but he was reluctant to do so. Maybe it was because the last mission was so long. Or maybe it was because of the muscular arm draped over his abdomen; both were options. 

Bucky was still asleep. Steve could only see the back of his head, but the light snoring gave him away. He was probably drooling too, knowing him. Steve smiled, watching his partner’s shoulders slowly rise with each deep breath. It was serene. 

This last mission was a pain in Steve’s ass—and it took longer than normal. He was gone for a full two weeks and the reconnaissance ended in a firefight with too many A.I.M. agents. He had to spend an extra night at S.H.I.E.L.D. to check for a concussion—which he didn’t have—when all he wanted to do was curl up next to Bucky and shower him in kisses. Instead, Steve made it home with a black eye and a slew of other bruises. He was sore, he was tired, and he was pretty damn cranky when he walked through the door. 

Bucky was sitting on the couch with a People magazine in hand—which was probably still on the floor, now that Steve thought about it. He expected Bucky to be angry for coming home looking like he just had a bar fight with the Hulk, but was surprised to find quite the opposite. Bucky doted on him. It distracted Steve so much that he almost didn’t notice the new haircut (almost). Frankly, that was all it took to make him feel ten times better. 

He wrapped a hand around Bucky’s now-bare neck and pulled him in for a hungry kiss. And those kisses quickly turned into Steve leaning over the back of the couch while Bucky thrusted into him. He could still feel the sensation of a cool metal palm gently caressing his back as they made love. Damn, he missed him these past two weeks. 

It wasn’t enough for Steve. He eagerly pulled Bucky into the bedroom for round two (and three and four…). The best part about dating another super soldier was that they could keep up with what felt like endless stamina; it was great. If Steve knew it would be this great, he would’ve done it sooner. 

After they finally got together, it took a few months for them to do anything more than heavy petting. Mentally, it was probably for the best. Bucky was still working through a lot with his therapist and Steve was perfectly content just sharing long kisses. And when they finally were ready, it was nothing like the first time. 

Bucky shoved a pillow under the small of Steve’s back and gently worked him open with his fingers. Every touch was tender and meaningful; the ferocity of their first time was nowhere to be found. When Steve was finally ready, Bucky eased in little by little, letting Steve get used to the stretch at his own pace. His hips finally rested against Steve’s ass and metal fingers laced with flesh. He brought Steve’s hand up and kissed it before he started to move. Bucky rocked into him with slow, deep thrusts, careful not to rush their moment together. When Steve was close, Bucky covered his mouth with his own. He kept moving through Steve’s climax until his hips stuttered and he reached his own orgasm. Since that night, they moved through all of those condoms pretty quickly. Steve smiled at the memory.

He looked over at his sleeping boyfriend and sighed. “Hey, Buck?” he asked quietly. “Are you awake?”

Bucky grunted and nestled into his pillow. 

“Bucky?”

He groaned, slowly turning to face Steve. His head never left the pillow as he lazily blinked at the man next to him. “Hey,” he mumbled with a smirk. 

“Hey.”

“What time is it?” Bucky huffed. 

“I’m not sure.”

“Mm. How are you feeling?” he asked as his hand brushed over the purple bruise on Steve’s belly. 

“Much better now,” Steve mused, rolling onto his side. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, I kinda gathered that. You sure you’re okay?”

“Positive,” Steve confirmed, touching Bucky’s hair. “I like it.”

“Good.”

“Almost as much as I like you.”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re being sappier than usual. What gives?”

“I am not,” Steve said in faux shock. “I just love you.”

“And I love you,” Bucky said, grabbing Steve’s wrist, and kissing the palm of his hand. “A lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“How much?”

“So much,” Bucky mumbled into the pillow.

Steve moved closer, so their chests were almost touching. He wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer. 

“Hey, Buck?”

“Hm?” he grumbled.

“When can I try it?” 

Bucky looked at him groggily. “Try what?” 

“You know…” Steve said meekly. “Putting it in?”

Bucky tensed for a moment before relaxing back into the embrace. “Whenever you want,” he whispered. “But I want to sleep more, first.” 

Steve swallowed. That comment went right to his prick and he really didn’t want to ruin this nice cuddle session with an unwelcome hard-on. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat. He expected that to be more of a fight. Well, not a  _ fight _ fight, but he figured Bucky wouldn’t necessarily want to be on the receiving end. He never showed any interest in that before. Or maybe he did and Steve was too blind to see it? But why wouldn’t he just ask? Then again, they weren’t the best when it came to communicating sexual desires (something Nat mocked him for on a regular basis. He was never asking her for advice ever again). 

Bucky drifted back to sleep with his hand still wrapped around Steve’s wrist. Steve smiled. He really loved this man. He loved him more than anything. They finally had each other, and they really didn’t need anything else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you enjoyed my short story. I'm sure I'll be back, writing more Stucky.

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be on the shorter side (probably only 3-4 chapters). I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
